A Tangled Web

Anonymous

I looked up from the book I was reading. Tom had been acting strangely for several months. I had known something was bothering him, but I had known also that I should wait for him to approach me.

"Sure, Son. Your sisters Betty and Lois are out, so we can talk without being disturbed. Why don't we pour some coffee first?"

When we were settled comfortably in front of the fireplace, I waited for Tom to begin. It was evident that he was having trouble finding words.

"I know you've been struggling with something," I said, trying to find an opening for him. In the past, Tom had talked about his frustration with friends, or lack of them, about his mixed feelings over his adoption and the birth parents he had never known, about his adoptive mother's death two years before, but I had suspected we were only skimming the surface. Perhaps this was the breakthrough.

"Dad . . . what I've been telling you as the reason for my being depressed . . . that wasn't the real reason."

"That doesn't come as a surprise to me, Tom. Can you talk about it now?"

"I don't know, Dad. It's . . . it's really gross. I don't know how to tell you."

Perhaps it was intuition. Perhaps it was the coming together of several bits of information in my mind. In that instant, I was sure that I knew what the problem was. "Son, if I can guess what's bothering you, would you be able to talk about it?"

"Well . . . I suppose so, but you would never guess, Dad."

"Let me try. You've been sexually involved with Betty, right?"

An incredulous look spread across Tom's face. "Dad, how did you know?"

"Son, dads have a way of sensing what's going on in the family. Want to tell me about it?"

"I guess you're pretty mad at me, now!" Tom looked at the floor, his face mirroring his shame and misery.

"No, Tom. We've handled other family problems together. We'll tackle this one as well."

Thus began a family adventure that would call upon every parenting and counselling skill I could muster. I am sure that I received spiritual guidance, for I was charting unknown emotional territory and somehow what I did was effective.

What Tom told me came not entirely as a surprise. I had been suspicious for a number of months, but I had had nothing concrete to go on. I had asked Betty on several occasions if Tom was bothering her, but she had denied it. Perhaps I should have been more attentive.

"How long has this been going on?" I asked, keeping my voice calm.

"You may not believe this, Dad--when we started, I was ten and Betty was eight!"

"You have managed to surprise me!" I shook my head. "That's pretty sophisticated behaviour for kids that age."

"This may surprise you, too, then. It wasn't the first time for either Betty or me. The girl was a year older than me, the boy two years older than Betty."

"Should I ask who?"

"I'd rather not say, Dad. Neither one is around anymore. I wouldn't feel right about pointing a finger."

"Tell me, Tom--what you and Betty have been doing--is this common among your friends?"

"Dad, you may not believe this either, but almost all our friends have been involved in sex since they were in grade five or six. I'm surprised that more parents don't find out."

I needed some time to assess just what the problem was I was facing. In terms of relationships, Tom and Betty were brother and sister, as they had been with me since they were infants. On the other hand, because Tom was adopted and Betty was a permanent foster child, they were not related either by blood or by law.

The other problem I faced was that I had agreed to talk to Tom in confidence, something I should respect as a father, but, as a professional counsellor, I had an obligation to report activities such as this to a social worker. I would have to approach it one step at a time.

Tom made no attempt to minimize what he had done, or to place the blame on Betty. He had always suspected that what they were doing was wrong, but had found it hard to stop once the activity had become firmly established. After their adopted mother had died, they had grown even closer, finding comfort in their relationship. He felt now that they should be finding other friends, but Betty became angry if he showed interest in any other girl. He was miserable and desperate.

"Tom, do you have any objection to my talking with Betty?"

"No, I guess not, Dad. You'll have to sooner or later."

"Leave it with me for a while, Son. One thing, have I your assurance that it's not going to happen any longer?"

"Yes, Dad! I promise you. Believe me, I want it to be over!"

When I approached Betty in private and asked if we could talk about this matter, she made it plain she did not want to discuss it with me. Betty had been much closer to her mother than to me; after her mother had passed away, she had withdrawn into herself, making the barrier between us even more pronounced. Now I could not break through that communication block.

Discouraged but determined, I sat down and wrote Betty a letter, explaining that I loved her very much, that what had happened was not her fault, that I wanted it to be resolved and that if she did not feel that she could talk to me, would she please talk to her social worker or school counsellor.

A few days later, I breathed a sigh of relief when I received a call from Betty's school counsellor. Betty had disclosed to her what had been happening. Now we could begin a concerted approach to untangle the web these two children had woven around their lives. I would build supporting services around Tom; the school counsellor and social worker would work with Betty. We would confer regularly to make sure our progress was coordinated.

I made arrangements for Tom to consult a Christian psychiatrist. In addition, another social worker, one that Tom knew and trusted, agreed to meet with him on a weekly basis. Esteem-building was a major emphasis for both young people.

I had often drawn on the resources of prayer. It had sustained me through many parenting challenges before. Now I claimed the promise that God would give me strength to deal with this one. I consulted a medical specialist in children's behavioural problems, and went with my own need to a psychiatrist with whom I had frequent contact in my professional role.

My minister was of tremendous help. To my surprise, he had encountered and dealt with sibling sexuality before, and was not astonished by what I told him. My other counsellors, as well, advised me that this was a problem not at all uncommon in our society--it was just well concealed!

I was much closer to my youngest daughter, now 13. She had known what was happening between Tom and Betty, and had been concerned about it, but had respected their wish to keep it secret. I told her what Tom had said about sexual activity between pre-teens. Could this be true?

"Dad," Lois said, "Tom didn't exaggerate. When I was in grade six and seven, a lot of the kids were involved with each other."

"But how come their parents didn't know?" I asked.

"How come you didn't know about Tom and Betty?" Lois shot back, then smiled sympathetically. "Dad, kids are good at keeping secrets from their parents. They find opportunity . . . and they make use of it."

"But . . . but who are these kids?" I sputtered.

Lois began to name some of those she knew about. I was astonished: a minister's son, a bank manager's daughter, children of other professional people, one girl sleeping alternately with twin brothers, a social worker's children.

I like to think that prayer sets in motion a process by which God can join forces with us to work out a problem, rather than expecting that, presto, everything will be quickly straightened out. I knew this would take time, but I had faith in God's guidance.

There were rocky spots in the road to resolving my family crisis. A few months after Tom's disclosure, I came home unexpectedly and found Betty in bed with Tom. At first, I felt angry and defeated. Tom and Betty reacted with feelings of guilt and shame. Tom was keenly aware that he had betrayed my trust. After the initial shock was over, I was able to put the matter in perspective. These two had been sexually involved for over six years. It might be expected that there would be some setbacks. Nevertheless, I had a heart-to-heart talk with Tom.

"I care very much what happens to you two," I said. "You can count on me for understanding and support. But you must know that if we are going to live in the same house, you can't continue this behaviour. Can you accept that?"

"Yes, Dad," Tom mumbled. His confidence in himself was badly shattered. I had to help him rebuild that confidence, and at the same time put measures in place that would assist both young people to live by their commitments.

In the days ahead, I drew together a resource team that proved to be effective. A social worker, skilled in group dynamics, moderated family councils in our home. Both Betty and Tom were involved in individual and group counselling. I found in our minister a continuing mental and spiritual support that helped me through tough times when I doubted my ability as a parent. Gradually our household returned to normal. The children formed other friendships in their own age groups. I look back now with a thankful heart that the family remained together and on good terms with each other. Tom and Betty are grown now, with children of their own. I hope that the experience will help them be more effective parents.

My further hope is that this article will help other parents who have encountered, or may encounter, sexual activity between their children. They should know that it is not uncommon, that it does not mean they have failed as parents, and that there are resources, both spiritual and therapeutic, to deal with it successfully.

The author of this article wishes to remain anonymous, for the sake of the children involved.

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